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by Adarog (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-03
Updated: 2008-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/Adarog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're what?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Monsoon" and "Divali".  Thanks to Antennapedia; for beta.

"You're *what*?!"

"You heard her, G."  Faith straightened up where she was leaning against the bookcases, but she didn't come any closer.  "You knocked her up."

Tara put out a hand, and Faith, behind her, coiled down again.  Tara looked up at Giles serenely.  "I'm pregnant."

Unable to speak further, Giles folded down onto the sofa, one hand pointing to himself.  Tara nodded, poised on the armchair to his right. "I--I was late, so I, so I got a test at the chemist's."  She was stuttering as she had used to.  "And then, to be sure, I saw a doctor.  I'm sure."  She laid a hand on his wrist, a bird alighted but ready to fly. 

"Good Lord."  Giles covered his face with his hands.  He was over fifty and had impregnated a girl half his age, a girl--a *woman* with whom he had a stable friendship, yes, but they were only occasional lovers.  He had no one else at the moment, but Tara--  He looked over at Faith.  Arms folded, one knee bent, lower lip thrust out in that old stubborn expression.  She and Tara had only recently become lovers, but Faith was showing every sign of jealousy at the moment.

Tara got up and began walking about the room as she talked.  Instinctively Giles searched her figure for signs of the pregnancy, but she was not quite three months gone; there was no difference in her ripe curves.

"I missed a couple of periods and, and, then when the test was positive, I knew, but I thought I should check, you know?  So I did, and--"  She turned to him.  Her fists were knotted in the folds of her skirt.  "Rupert, you are the only man.  Ever.  You're the father.  And I want to keep this baby.  Our baby."

He did what a gentleman ought to do.  He got up, went to her, and took her hands, smiling.  "What do you want from me?"

"Marriage... isn't the right thing.  But I want you in the baby's life.  And I want her to have your name."

"Her?  Surely they can't tell that already."

Tara shook her head.  "No."  And smiled.  "But I know."

He stepped into the role of father, publicly, and with no apologies.  Xander ribbed him, of course, but most people seemed to think it good that he was having a child with Tara, and not even particularly odd that Tara should nevertheless have a partner who was a woman.  Tara moved into the London house for the time being, at his insistence; Faith moved in with her, at Tara's insistence.  Faith's jealous reserve melted the first time she comforted her lover through a bout of morning sickness, while Giles was at the office.  Tara smiled while telling him how Faith had held back her hair and given her a cool damp cloth afterward, and the morning sickness cleared itself away promptly as soon as the first trimester was past.

By mid-course, Giles had gotten used to going along with Tara and Faith to the regular check-ups.  The gynecologist, an African woman with an Oxonian accent and the darkest skin he had ever seen, didn't even blink the first time the three of them showed up in her office.  She merely asked if Giles and Faith were both going to be present during labor.  Giles blinked, Faith opened her mouth.  Tara said, "Yes."

It was an easy pregnancy.  No doubt Tara's considerable magicks helped; she brewed tisanes, sang songs, lit candles to Artemis and Lucina.  Giles provided what he could: a home, ice cream, a sympathetic ear, and coverage for the medical costs.

The dreams began in the last trimester.  Tara had taken to sleeping on the chaise longue in the library, as it was easier on her aching back than Faith's tossing and turning.  Giles woke in the deeps of the night with an inexplicable and irresistible urge for ice cream, and after devouring an untouched pint of something thick with caramel, he checked on Tara before going back to bed.  The full moon poured silver on her face through the library window, yet she was smiling in her sleep and utterly still.  Giles thought better of drawing the curtains, settled down again, and dreamt that he was walking Tara through a shifting landscape of tangled forest and burnt-out city and dark things that flew low overhead, holding her up as she stumbled and clutched her stomach, whilst ahead of them a swift shining figure wielding a large and deadly blade cut down obstacles and enemies in their path.  He tried to urge Tara on, hoping to catch up with the Slayer and see if it were really she, really Buffy, but Tara slowed and finally stopped, in the grip of birthing.  He woke to sunshine and birdcalls from the disturbing image of seeing the baby crown between its mother's legs while the dark flying things stooped all around them.

In the kitchen he found Faith and Tara both eating some sugary American cereal.  Faith had made coffee and he inhaled it gratefully.  Faith muttered into her bowl.  "Weird dreams last night, man."  Tara put down her spoon.

"You, too?" she asked.

"And I, three," Giles said.

"Dreams of my giving birth," Tara said, slowly.

"Yes," said Giles, and "Yeah," from Faith.

He dreamt again of Buffy's presence while Tara gave birth, not every night, but several times a week.  He dreamt of Buffy, as he had not for some time; memories of her face, of her moods, of her form in battle; Buffy with Angel, with Riley, with Spike, with all the others who had touched her, while he had not; Buffy fighting new enemies with him at her side, Tara behind them, a powerful force of magic.  On the night Tara's labor began, he was dreaming of Tara talking with Buffy in his apartment in Sunnydale, lost now to the Hellmouth.  He had made tea and was just putting scones on a plate, in the dream, when Tara's cry woke him.

Her water had broken.  He sped them to the hospital with Faith cursing and crying all the way, Tara breathing steadily.  Giles was glad now that he had gone to those embarrassing childbirth classes with the two women; Faith might not flinch at her own injuries or any sort of gore, but she was obviously going to be no help during Tara's labor.  The physician, God bless her, got to the hospital before them, and the whole procedure went smoothly if one didn't count Faith's passing out. 

It was a warm late summer morning, clear and bright, when Tara put his newborn daughter in his arms.  Her eyes, though cloudy and unfocused, were distinctly green, not blue, and her hair was fair, like her mother's.  He touched her cheek, her soft mouth, her small flailing hand, and her tiny fingers wrapped around his.

"Hello, little Slayer," he whispered.

  



End file.
